


Veritas se revēlet

by fragilevixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Divergent, Case Fic, F/M, Mild Smut, Post-Episode: s06e06 How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, RST, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 05:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21094334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilevixen/pseuds/fragilevixen
Summary: (The title is roughly translated to let the truth be revealed in Latin) An impromptu wild goose chase leads Mulder and Scully to the drifts of a winter-locked Tonopah, Nevada—where a little more than the embodiment of Mulder’s imagination takes shape between the walls of the Mizpah Hotel in the dead of winter.





	1. A Whisper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MonikaFileFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaFileFan/gifts).

> Amobarbital is a sedative-hypnotic that has been used to create suggestibility for the discernment of information and the unveiling of truth (that has been concealed). 
> 
> “You can only lose what you cling to.” -Buddha
> 
> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

_Revealing the truth is like_

_Lighting a match._

_It can bring light or it can_

_Set your world on fire._

-Wiz Khalifa

Sunday, January 3rd, 1999

4:00 PM, Tonopah, NV

“How long are you planning on ignoring me, Scully?” Mulder notched up the heat on the center console and aimed it toward the bundled, pink-cheeked redhead doing her best to forget his existence in the passenger seat.

Scully’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head she stared forward, sighing audibly as she took in the sight of falling snow across the windshield, thoroughly exasperated with the situation as the feeling had nearly left her toes. “Until you tell me when we’re going back to Reno to board a flight back to DC, I’d imagine.”

_Don’t start with me, Mulder._

Scully glanced at him sideways, the blowing heat from the vent finally meeting her skin as she yanked her gloves off and shoved them into her coat pocket. She reached for the dashboard, clicking the dual air, sending a flood of heat toward her feet with such intensity that she let out an involuntary, louder-than-necessary groan that nearly made Mulder swerve into the ditch. Scully stared at him, balancing the Styrofoam cup in her hand as she adjusted her seated position again while Mulder dodged her steel blues, keeping his eyes firmly forward. His smile was burying an uncharacteristic bashfulness as he faked a slick spot in the road, casually jerking the wheel to make it look like the prior deviation was caused by the road—and not the guttural utterance that she had just made.

“You don’t have the slightest curiosity of what we’re doing in the middle of the Nevada desert on Sunday evening as the sun is starting to duck behind the horizon?” Mulder was getting poetic as the snow tires squealed for a half a second and the wipers moved across the windshield, taking a weak layer of moisture with them.

“Mulder, driving while intoxicated is a criminal offense in every state and you’re too pretty to survive a solid night in the drunk tank,” Scully’s smirk was hiding her irritation as she took another sip of her dwindling coffee lingering in the bottom of a lidded-Styrofoam cup, gradually tilting her head in his direction.

“You’re funny,” Mulder scoffed and gripped the wheel a little harder, peeking at her as her focus went right back out the side window, her posture increasingly rigid as she folded her hands in her lap. “It isn’t a haunted house this time…”

“Left that wide open for a building or an abandoned, decommissioned mine, though, from the looks of the locale,” Scully raised her eyebrows at him as she resigned to at least find a little humor in the situation as she rubbed her lips together, hiding a smile.

Scully wanted to believe that he wasn’t going to subject her to a repeat of Christmas Eve, but Mulder’s track record was less than stellar for an unhealthy length of time over keeping half of the information from his partner. On most days, it was a trait that she could look beyond and view as an endearing, almost admirable, quality that he wore like a badge for the world to see but for an increasing number of months it had become his Achilles heel. It was an aspect of his personality that had made him turn a blind eye to his own actions and go chasing figures in the dark, without her or even a moment’s care for what his actions might do to her. Every moment started to compound and pile together until Scully had that overwhelming sensation that Mulder would’ve preferred to do everything alone or, at the very least, have a less rigid companion next to him even as she sat next to him within the confines of a four-wheel drive sport utility vehicle in the middle of nowhere.

It was a sentiment she didn’t dare utter even as the shimmering drifts of snow rose and fell along the side of the highway, aiming the SUV like an arrow up the hill.

“I think you know me better than that, Scully,” Mulder wrinkled his nose and licked his bottom lip as the stale, almost overheated air moved past, making his pout all the more apparent with every syllable. “Probably should get checked into the motel before I go spoiling it for you…”

For a moment, dread passed through Scully’s every fiber as she caught sight of the weakly fenced off, snow-bound, pioneer cemetery at the edge of Tonopah after seeing the _Welcome_ signs that beckoned them in. Mulder never needed an excuse to push her limits and trapesing into an old, run down cemetery was certainly a good way to do accomplish full tilt. She angled her head forward as the air went out of her lungs, taken aback at the sheer amount of space it seemed to take up. Her eyes lingered along the fence as they creeped along the highway, aiming forward in the direction of the natural curve of the road as they approached the first constructed, usable buildings for miles. The well-lit signage in red lettering with white trim standing out from a baby blue background had Scully squinting as the SUV came up and over the rise of the hillside as they entered the limits of Tonopah. She went silent as the smiling, red nosed face in that same sign was fully in focus—an image that she wasn’t expecting, nor was she exactly thrilled to see in front of a two story building. Mulder bit away his smirk as he watched Scully’s pure displeasure unfold right before his very eyes as he did his best not to look at her.

“You had better be driving right past _that_ or I’ll black your eye right here, right now, Mulder,” Scully leaned against the center armrest and gripped the edge, meeting a deeply apologetic look from her button pusher in the driver’s seat. “We are not staying there.”

“I would’ve have dreamed of making you stay there but knowing just how tense you were over the idea?” Mulder continued to drive past the pastel blue and white building, pushing his luck as he smirked in her direction. “Might have to switch from where we are staying so we can—”

“We are not staying at the Clown Motel,” Scully choked on the last drink of her coffee and burned a hole through him with those steel blues as she noticed his speed decreasing even further.

Mulder chuckled and shook his head, reaching for his own cup in the center console, thoroughly entertained by Scully’s frustration with him. “No, we’re not staying at the Clown Motel, Scully…I think my choice in accommodations might surprise you, for a change.”

“Surprising isn’t something that I’d say would be foreign to you but you have a bad habit of combining that with unpleasant,” Scully wasn’t going to elucidate in words that she enjoyed a sleepy, little town and this one was no exception as each old building had more character than the last as she felt his cheesy smirk burning through her. “So where are we staying? Tonopah isn’t exactly blessed with options.”

“We don’t have much further to go and the recommendation was pretty good, even in the wintertime,” Mulder was skirting around naming their destination but his head was doing the talking as he made that little left-handed nod to capture her full regard.

“After all this time you still haven’t gotten the memo that I’m not a fan of surprises?” Scully was only half lying as she raised both eyebrows and fidgeted in her seat, pressing her lips together.

Mulder casually grazed his right hand across the top of hers as it rested against the center cushion, letting it linger a little longer than necessary before addressing the blinker situation as he turned onto a side street to park. “Live a little, Scully.”

Scully bit down on the corner of her lip and let the surge of blush add to the already deepened pink of her chilled cheeks, emblazoning a path of warmth that had her nervous that Mulder would take notice over as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Luckily, he was thoroughly involved in watching the road as he pulled into a parking space next to a large, brick and stone building. Scully hadn’t looked up in time to see the signage but the immediate notion was that Mulder had either overpaid or was bluffing as he gave her that patented smile before sliding out of the driver’s seat after turning off the ignition. She didn’t linger inside of the SUV as she opted to follow, gathering the last of her gear from the front seat before joining him, wearily, at the rear to carry in their luggage.

“Mizpah Hotel? Mulder, this doesn’t look like the usual ‘you might need to check the beds for bugs or bloodstains before you get in the bed’ motel that we stay in,” Scully couldn’t help but notice that everything on the exterior matched and was little on the upscale side in spite of the very Western Motif that the entire town seemed to be sporting.

“Can’t tell if you’re calling me or the bureau cheap, Scully,” Mulder pulled the front door to the entrance open for her and gestured for her to go in. “Lets just say when this goes on my vouchers, I’m going to be lying my ass off by saying that every other place we could stay at was riddled with bed bugs.”

Scully held onto the handle of her bag as she entered the hotel, the scent of history wafting at her as the velvet curtains, tin-lined walls, and old woods had their own energy, their own atmosphere. “Are you sure you didn’t plan on bringing me here to investigate a claim of ghosts, Mulder? I mean…two birds, one stone.”

“I’m sure the majority of the hauntings here involve invasion of certain rooms, static dream mechanisms, and the highly unpredictable phenomenon of sleep paralysis brought on by a state of paranoia over a change in pressure and magnetic fields,” Mulder was entertaining Scully as they approached the check-in desk, attracting the ire of the middle-aged, heavyset woman shuffling through paperwork that seemed overdressed for the job.

“That almost sounded like…skepticism, Mulder,” Scully raised an eyebrow, entertaining herself as she caught sight of him fumbling for his wallet. “Have we been locked in a car together for too long or are you just tired?”

The woman cleared her throat, audibly and aggressively, tucking her long, blonde locks behind her ears as she captured their attention, her smoker’s afflicted voice raspy as she jutted her hip to one side. “Are you two checking in or should I give you a few minutes to finish this…uncomfortable quibbling?”

“We are checking in—reservations should be under Mulder for two rooms?” Mulder hid his smirk as he pushed his identification and card across the top of the counter, diverting his line of sight from Scully to the visibly frustrated creature in front of them. “How are you doing this evening…Nancy?”

“Just peachy,” Nancy’s attempt at softening up her rough, antagonized exterior was a little dull as she opened the datebook, indexing until she came to Mulder’s name written in near the bottom of one page. “You needed two rooms? For you and your wife?”

“We’re not married,” Scully’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as the word ‘wife’ hung in the air like cold, blistering fog before finally reaching into her chest to tighten another coil around her heart. “We’re partners—"

“We’re here on an investigation and it’s a little unprofessional for partners to be consorting in the same room,” Mulder hadn’t fully noticed the change in Scully’s demeanor as he shifted his weight and tapped the countertop with the tips of his fingers. “That’s not a problem, I’m assuming?”

“We have two rooms, directly across the hall from each other—on the fifth floor. We have 502 and 504 open for reservations for at least a week,” Nancy had a smirk hiding beneath that crotchety personality as the numericals of the rooms seemed to be amusing her a little more than they should. “It looks like you have an open-ended reservation. Both rooms have a beautiful view…”

“Top floor? That sounds more expensive than I was anticipating,” Mulder made a clicking noise with his tongue and glanced at Scully as she chewed on her bottom lip before regaining eye contact with Nancy. “502 and 504 will be just fine.” 

“What lie did you tell to get the vouchers for the flight out here, Mulder?” Scully couldn’t have been more amused as she propped her elbow against the counter, flashing a smile at him despite him diverting his eyes away from her on purpose.

Mulder gathered their keys from Nancy and glanced at Scully, who was taking personal pleasure in his visible discomposure as he cleared his throat. “Dead body discovered in one of the abandoned, decommissioned mines?”

“Oh, Christ,” Scully rolled her eyes as she noticed Nancy’s fingernails tapped along the pages of her reception book, conveying every moment of her annoyance.

“What? It worked and no one even asked me about the circumstances or plausible cause of death,” Mulder turned his awareness away from Scully, meeting the unmoved stare of their detached third party in Nancy. “Was there anything else you needed from me, Nancy?”

“Your signature,” Nancy flipped the book around and pushed it in front of him, pointing to multiple places on the page much to his chagrin. “Here…here…and here.”

“My liver, my lungs, and my firstborn?” Mulder was treading closely toward flirting as he signed his name along each spot that she indicated on the page, making Scully half spin as she did a double-take.

Nancy wasn’t taken in by his charms as she slowly blinked and closed the book in front of him, shaking her head in a singular huff. “No…just signatures.”

“Shut down,” Scully kept her voice low as she gently nudged him in the ribs and meandered toward the elevator, glancing back at Mulder only once to smirk at him as he rolled his eyes.

“Your rooms are around the corner from the elevator—it’s easy to navigate,” Nancy didn’t know what level of friendliness she wanted to display as a fake smile graced her lips, the elevation of her voice a little exaggerated with every word spoken. “We have a restaurant as well as room service…menus are in each room. If you have questions just let me know. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, Nancy,” Mulder was standing on the careful line of amusement and confusion as he joined Scully by the elevator, the conflict written across his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. “We’ve come across some interesting people in our partnership, Scully, but I don’t think I’ve ever encountered anyone who seemed to be holding multiple people hostage within their own skin more than that one behind that check-in desk.”

“You aren’t exactly blameless in the situation, Casanova,” Scully lugged her bags into the elevator and leaned against the rail at the back of it, wetting her lips out of instinct.

Mulder made an audible grunt as he stood next to her, pushing the button for the fifth floor, his eyes facing forward as he could feel her gloating beside his arm. “I don’t know what you’re referring to in the slightest…I was just being nice.”

“Right,” Scully glanced up at the light as it flashed, the beep of each floor reached echoing in the small, somewhat dingy space they were standing in. “I know you think you’re off the hook over the reason we are in the middle of rural Nevada, Mulder, but I’d like to know what you have in store for me and whether I should be glaring at you now, or later…”

“We have next to no daylight left and should’ve been here an hour ago,” Mulder glanced at his watch as the doors opened, moving forward into the fifth floor hallway with more than a little bit of an eerie feel as the chilly air nipped at Scully’s face. “We’ll drop all of this stuff off in our rooms, change into boots and…meet someone at an entrance to the mines.”

Scully stopped in the opening of the elevator, the severe look on her face deepening as she lingered there. “The mines? As in, the decommissioned, rumored to be haunted mines that I already asked you about?”

“The ones I really didn’t confirm or deny?” Mulder resembled a little boy that had just gotten caught with his hand in a cookie jar as he hid the smirk from her. “Stop dragging your feet, Scully, it’ll be fun!”

“Isn’t that everyone’s famous last words before they die?” Scully finally took a step forward, following him toward the curve in the hallway, in the direction of rooms 502 and 504.

10:30 PM

“Don’t say a word,” Scully was terse with Mulder as the elevator opened to the fifth floor, the heavy quietude hanging in the air as every stitch of her clothing dripped with mud and hundred-year-old ash.

Mulder’s mouth opened again, the words ready as he followed her down the hall, the evidence of their misadventure visible as she moved a little gingerly toward the door to her room. She was muttering under her breath and he knew that he had really done it this time as his partner was growling cuss words through her teeth as she fumbled with the key to her room. He was guilt-stricken as he wiped his dirty hands against his pants instinctively, leaving a darkened pattern along the nearly pristine material in stark contrast to Scully’s heavily saturated clothing. He cleared his throat and caught the icy glare from her as she pushed the door open only a few inches, deepening her glare as she stood with her hand on her hip, expectantly waiting.

“I know that saying exactly how sorry I am isn’t going to cut it this time,” Mulder watched her as she pushed thickly caked hair out of her face, leaving streaks of dirt and ashy debris behind across her soft, blush laden cheeks. “But I am sorry…I tried to catch you.”

“Mulder, I just want to take off every stitch of these clothes, hope and pray that this hotel has a laundry service, then shower before I pass out,” Scully could feel the weight of her jacket pressing into her shoulders as she fought back the urge to scream, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth for a moment to gather the last of her strength. “I don’t even want to eat and I know I should.”

“Let me get you something to eat, at least?” Mulder hesitated, the words hanging in the air as Scully kept her disgruntled posture, her arms crossed across her chest as she propped the door open with the toe of her boot. “You need something in your stomach.”

Scully felt her vexation softening in spite of herself as she dropped her glance toward the floor and gently kicked at the smallest rock that had fallen from the collection of slathered grime along her knees. Mulder knew how to provoke a change nearly every time and it drove her subtly insane as she bit down on the inside of her cheek while she slowly nodded. She wanted to scream at him, slap him hard, and finish off the already strangely volatile situation by snatching him by the jacket to taste his bottom lip. The thought was incendiary and unbridled—and a mess best left in the confines of her subliminal self.

Scully waved the white flag, surrendering to the kind, remorse driven gesture from her partner as she pushed the door a little further. “Something light…but I need to shower first, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll see if I can’t track down someone over that laundry, as well. You shower, I’ll knock when I figure this out,” Mulder’s sincerity never ceased to amaze her when she wanted to hold onto the shred of bitterness within her while he went in the direction of the elevator, leaving her in the comforting, almost lulling silence.

Scully shook her head and crossed the threshold into the room, tugging off her soaked coat in the process while she let the door shut with the quietest of clicks behind her. She hadn’t stopped to process the trip, or the room for that matter, as she roughly untied her boots and discarded them next to the door, doing her best not to make a massive pile of dirt in her wake. The luggage rack was conveniently empty, and more than a little perfect to protect the carpet, as she dangled the coat across the top before stripping away the rest of her dirty clothes. Scully took a long look in the mirror beside her bed and regarded her own pale curves cradled by the matching black lingerie, that she stupidly chose for the trip, before suspiring over the smear of mud across her cheek.

“That’s attractive,” Scully swallowed her pride and went to the bathroom, turning the water on until it ran just hot enough for her liking.

She could’ve glossed over Mulder’s borderline deception like she did so often but the look of discolored, muddied water dripping down the drain only had her blood boiling as she let the water cascade onto the top of her head. She wanted to unveil the discontent with being taken for a ride but there was something hiding underneath of her motivation, where the resentment resided, where pining began a staredown with the rest of her emotions, and she knew she was deadlocked in something inescapable that had been unspoken. He brought the worst out of her and yet, initiated the best within the same breath, leaving her to question motivation—was it loyalty or passion that had her standing in the tub of a hundred year old hotel in Tonopah, Nevada? Scully shuddered at the exact divulgence of an answer as she pressed her fingers into the tile, closing her eyes as the searing heat of the water and steam made her inhale a harsh breath and exhale a whine. Her eyes opened, returning her to a semblance of awareness before gathering the small, hotel issued bottle of shampoo along the side of the tub, filling her palm with the lavender and mint laced liquid.

_At least the shampoo smells nice._ She couldn’t help but think as she rolled her fingers through her hair, lathering her locks with the generic, thick looking cleanser.

It would’ve been the beginning of something relaxing if not for the heavy knocking at the door that brought her focus toward the open bathroom door with a snap of her head, the flash of paranoia over the lock malfunctioning crossing her mind. She stood there; shampoo and body wash dripping down the center of her back, hair still saturated in a thick lather of shampoo, as the breath crept back into her lungs. She roughly ran her fingers through her hair and glanced down at the soapy water as it started to run clear, relieved that the rushed shower had at least served its purpose as she reached for the handle, returning the room to a moment of silence.

“Hey, Scully, it’s me,” Mulder’s voice proceeded the rapping against the sturdy wood as she aggressively dried herself and wiggled into a pair of clean panties, the slap of her feet against the tile loud as she bounced out of the bathroom. “I know you haven’t had much time to shower but I found food…and can get those dirty clothes taken care of.”

Scully nearly tumbled as she yanked on the pajama bottoms and groped into her bag for her top. “Just a second...just, give me a second.”

“Okay—I’ll just be out here, with necessary sustenance and assistance for your clothes,” Mulder’s comment burrowed its way into her soul and made the smirk appear as she pulled a lace trimmed chemise on, covering the remnants of naked skin before reaching for the door handle.

“People can hear you from down the hall and probably think you’re crazy,” Scully opened the door, hair dripping along her shoulders, down the curve of her collarbone as she bit the edge of her lip to quell the grinning.

Mulder held a room service tray with a lid over it while he stood next to a mousy maid, her hair pulled back in a tight bun as she awkwardly waited. “In the time that you’ve known me, when have I ever shown signs of giving a care for how my words could be misconstrued from far away?”

Scully let them in, pressing her lips together, allowing an audible hum to escape as Mulder set the tray near the foot of the bed. “Well, I mean, not in any generalized company—“

“The answer is never,” Mulder shot her a look and turned toward the maid, who was standing just inside the doorway, an awkward expression marked on her face. “Celia, I think the mound of clothes on the luggage rack and the boots as well are the ones that need a little TLC.”

“Hang on, let me clear the pockets of the coat,” Scully’s eyes widened and reached into the pockets, making sure that everything was gone from inside before smiling at Celia as she shoveled the heap into a laundry bag. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Celia had a little bit of an accent that Scully couldn’t quite place as she pushed the last of the dirties into the bag and held it against her chest. “I’ll make sure these get brought back up as soon as possible…have a good night.”

Scully barely had a chance to turn around as Mulder opened the metal top on the tray, revealing a small teapot with steam still rising, an assortment of crackers and cheese, and an English muffin with at least six tea bags. The gesture was everything she could’ve asked for, in its simplicity, and the appreciation manifested in one of those grins she couldn’t contain. Mulder winked, poured the hot water over a tea bag in the cup and watched the first stages of it steeping before dropping two cubes of sugar into the discoloring liquid. He finished the drink with a splash of cream after discarding the teabag into the nearby wastebasket.

Scully always found herself marveling whenever he remembered how he liked her tea or coffee—tonight was no exception.

“I really appreciate this,” Scully was meek as Mulder crossed the room and lingered in the doorway, the battle to ask him to stay evident as she bit down on the inside of her cheek.

“You wouldn’t have been out there tonight if it weren’t for me,” Mulder leaned against the frame of the door as she held it open, gazing at her while trying to maintain his thought process and composure. “Get some food in your stomach, rest, and we’ll start fresh tomorrow?”

“Okay, deal,” Scully waited until Mulder was nearly entering his own room to continue as she cleared her throat and glanced at her own feet. “I really mean it…thank you.”

Mulder had those bedroom eyes in full bloom as he nodded toward his enigmatic partner, mystified by the little maneuver she was making with her toes as she hid them beneath the hem of her pajama pants. “Goodnight, Scully.”

“Goodnight, Mulder,” The words sounded girlish from Scully’s lips as she allowed the passing glance to linger before shutting the door with a precise click, returning the room to a quietness that only reminded her of just how lonely it was.

_Should’ve taken the chance and invited him in, to stay._

Scully picked up the tea and took the first sip, the sweetness mixed with the bitter of a strong marinating of Earl Grey while pulling back the covers, her fingers sliding along the crispness of the sheets. Undeniably, exhaustion was setting in, but the growling in her stomach was winning the wrestling match within her as she nibbled a square of cheese. She balanced the cup of tea as she utilized her agility to slide the tray to the table next to the bed, keeping the still steaming pot of water from toppling onto herself or the floor. Scully munched on the crackers as she made the final swing around the room, flicking the television on as though she needed it to fall asleep.

It was something that Mulder would do and the yearning for familiarity was seeping from her skin as she scooted under the covers, staring at the first broadcast of the nightly news.

_“…In national news, the Mars Polar Lander was launched by NASA this afternoon at 12:21 PM pacific standard time…”_

Scully notched the volume down on until the newscaster’s voice was nothing more than a dull murmur as she sank against the pillows, sipping her tea until the cup was only half full. She wanted to sleep even as she bit into the buttered English muffin, inevitably noticing that she had barely touched any of the food that Mulder had brought up to her. The bed was bordering on too comfortable as the fluffy, down comforter wasted no time in warming her up while she snacked on the abundant array of delectables at her discretion—making the lulling want for slumber that much more intense as she felt her chin teeter forward.

“Caffeine is supposed to jolt, not make you want to pass out,” Scully straightened out her back and inhaled a deep breath as she felt the warmth of her tea dribbling down the corner of her lip from an unintended spill. “Jesus…I need sleep.”

Scully finished the single cup of tea and the English muffin, opting to cover the tray before flicking the light off, returning her room to the dancing glow of the television as she fluffed the pillows, sinking further. It didn’t take long for the heaviness to take over, for the element of what had been nipping at her eyelids to take control, as each breath became thicker, more audible. Scully never considered herself a particularly heavy sleeper or even a quick to get to sleep, but both were evident as the pronounced click of the lock popping free warranted no hint of movement as she slumbered.

The door squealed open in a singular motion, rolling to a stop against the wall, ushering in what could only be described as pure darkness, shrouded from head to toe. Their presence was letting in more than a feeling as the air went frigid and the wind already whistling through the gaps in the windows howled a little louder. Faceless, nameless, and intent unknown, the figure crossed the carpeted flooring toward the sleeping redhead, arms folded across their chest, hands delicately hidden from the light. They leaned in close, avoiding all bodily contact with Scully as another deep exhale left her lips and collided with the deepening chill in the air.

“Only the truth, shall you speak,” The whisper was hollow and didn’t linger as they left, leaving only the remnant of an icy fog hovering in the air.


	2. Everything or Nothing at All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The title is roughly translated to let the truth be revealed in Latin) An impromptu wild goose chase leads Mulder and Scully to the drifts of a winter-locked Tonopah, Nevada—where a little more than the embodiment of Mulder’s imagination takes shape between the walls of the Mizpah Hotel in the dead of winter. 
> 
> The aftermath of the intrusion by an unidentified stranger followed by the unhinged slip of the tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You know the truth by the way it feels.” – India Arie
> 
> Amobarbital is a sedative-hypnotic that has been used to create suggestibility for the discernment of information and the unveiling of truth (that has been concealed). 
> 
> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

_Some nights you drink tea,_

_Some nights you drink whiskey._

-Atticus

6:45 AM

Mulder had grown accustomed over the years to sleeping in a room with the television muted, lights other than the fish tank off, and the sounds of his downstairs neighbors occasionally fighting or making up loudly emanating from the floorboards. It was a routine that had started as the kind that fueled insomnia but now aided in the ability to fall asleep nearly anywhere—in an airplane seat while turbulence rocked beneath it, at a desk in the dim listening to a lecture from Scully, and on long car rides when he relented and let her drive. At least until coming to this strange little hotel in the middle of the Nevada desert. He definitely was not used to the sound of wind whistling through every crack and crevice, delivering a high-pitched wailing that sounded unmistakably like a woman screaming. It made relaxing that much harder and only deepened the rampant insomnia he suffered from. Sleep finally took him shortly after the first set of infomercials had ended, when the clock had begun a more downward descent into the AM hours.

He had contemplated knocking at her door twice when his bladder had rudely awoken him from slumber, but reconsidered the moment the draft tickled his thighs, inviting him back to the warmth of the bed.

“I gotta get up,” Mulder stretched beneath the covers and flopped a pillow across his own face, groaning into it. “I don’t want to, but the stomach, is empty.”

His mind was occupied with more than just his stomach as he sat up in the bed, tossing the pillow in the blank space meant for a lover, and touched his feet to the floor, stretching his legs. Mulder glanced in the direction of the door and wet his lips as he reached into the opened luggage, pulling a pair of pants free from the mess that was his clothes. He had been circling the issue of his growing concern for Scully, of whether she’d ever take notice for the steps he had taken…of whether or not any of his little gestures were making even the smallest difference in her eyes. It was digging at him in the worst way, even as he dressed and brushed his teeth at the sink, that he was about to screw up a perfectly solid foundation of trust to leap onto another lily pad. He held a puff of air as the thought process was making him mildly sick to his stomach as he slid into his boots.

_Stop acting like you’re nothing more than a nervous little boy, Mulder._

He stuffed his wallet into his pocket and zipped his jacket, reached for the keycards to his room before flicking the television off, returning the room to a dulled, familiar silence. Mulder went to the window, pulling one side of the darkening curtains open until he could see that blast of white glow coming from the street below. The snow had accumulated overnight and the muted sunlight through the rolling, graying clouds only made each inch look that much deeper. He was second-guessing the choice to bring Scully to Tonopah in the dead of winter as he swung his shoulders away from the inevitable view of the drift outside, pretending it didn’t exist. Mulder cringed over the state of the bed as he opted to find his way out of his room to see if Scully had already gotten up and around—her usual MO. He turned as his hand lingered on the knob and found that the laundry had been brought up and delicately left along the frame but hadn’t been noticed by his usually early rising partner. Mulder wrinkled his nose as he pulled the handle until the door clicked shut and the mechanical sound of the key lock moved into place, his analytical brain already working on the unnecessary possibilities surrounding Scully’s clothes still hanging around outside her door this close to seven in the morning.

Mulder gathered the cloth bag under his arm and knocked three times, listening for the sound of any movement in hopes that he was being loud enough. “Hey, Scully, it’s me—you game for some breakfast?”

Scully wasn’t the loud type even if she were already up and around but he had a feeling that there was a considerable chance that the cold air had kept her cozy and under the covers, for once. Her television was just loud enough that he could hear the murmur of the morning news above the sound of her springs as she was stirring in the bed. Mulder sighed against the door frame, hesitating as he heard the thud of limbs against the top of the mattress before going still all over again. Mulder let out a low exhale, the noise muted by closed lips as he adjusted his grip on the laundry, wondering if it was best to let her sleep or continue to knock. It may have simply been a hunch or a manifestation of the often hidden concern for his partner that kept him lingering, waiting, second-guessing the next move—but it was the one that kept him pushing forward as he lifted his knuckles, knocking a little louder this time.

“You okay in there, Scully?” Mulder searched for the words as the question slipped out, sounded less convincing with each utterance as he furrowed his brow and pressed his free hand to his forehead.

The audible sigh that preceded a solid thump from beyond the barrier had him wincing and taking a step back, knowing that he had woke her completely. Scully’s muttering of the word ‘fuck’ along with a faint, but noticeable, clatter of movement had Mulder wondering exactly which version of his partner he was going to encounter with every passing second. He just hoped that the frustration wouldn’t be directed at him as he could hear the shuffle of clothes and metal against glass from the tray of food that he had gotten for her before they disappeared into their own, quiet spaces. The flash of concern passed that he would encounter those steel blues for only a second before the fire would pass from her lips and sear through him, ripping him apart for the incident last night in a deserved cataclysm.

His doomsday mentality was raging and there was no shutting it off after the colossal fuckup that would describe their venture into the mines.

“Just let me gather my bearings, Mulder,” Scully’s voice was a touch muffled but elevated, squeaky even, as he could hear her feet moving back and forth across the carpet. “I didn’t realize what time it was.” 

“It’s okay, you seemed like you were very tired last night,” Mulder was relieved not to hear a hint of distress in her vocalization as he shuffled his weight from left to right, holding the bag filled with Scully’s delicate clothes a little closer to his chest. “The maids must’ve tried to knock when your clothes were ready—opted to leave them outside the door.”

Scully opened the door, hesitating to make eye contact with him while still buttoning the final two buttons going up the top of her shirt as though he weren’t standing in her doorway. “You haven’t been knocking and waiting on me for very long, have you?”

“No…not long,” Mulder stammered, caught off guard by her motioning across the top of her chest with her elegant, little fingers as he set the laundry bag on the edge of the bed. “Was thinking about breakfast before figuring out a game plan for the rest of the day?”

Scully was unusually wide-eyed, to the point that Mulder wondered exactly how much sleep she had actually gotten as she shoved her wallet into her pocket and nodded in his direction. “Are you inviting me or was that you telling me where you’re going so I don’t worry about why you’re missing, Mulder?”

Mulder did a double-take at the question, at how loaded it was and matter of fact it came across as Scully nonchalantly ran her brush through her hair, not even taking the time to reconsider what she had just asked him. “Of course I want you to join me, Scully…where did that question come from?”

“Feigning shock doesn’t make the question any less accurate and you know it,” Scully glanced over her shoulder at him as she squeezed vanilla balm across her bottom lip in a much more explicit motion than she had actually intended. “You’re wearing the shirt I bought you—was that on purpose or did you just grab it from the top of the pile?”

Mulder could have shit himself over the boldness of her comments and questions as he watched her slide the tube of balm back into her pocket before gathering the tray of leftovers to place on the bed for the maids to take care of. “I, uh, you know this is one of my go to shirts if I can’t wear a tee-shirt, Scully…one of my favorites.”

“Still doesn’t quite answer my question but the look on your face tells me that you have no intention of telling me,” Scully zipped her bags shut and pushed her room key into her pocket before reaching for the deep gray cardigan that had been dangling over the edge of the bed. “Lead the way, then?”

Mulder really didn’t know if Scully was refreshed from a good night of sleep or if sleeplessness had manifested in a playful side that she didn’t often show on purpose. It was enough to tick away at the synapses of his brain as he watched her pull the door shut, the over accentuated curvature of her hips more visible in her jeans as she swung an arm into her cardigan while paying little attention to him staring her down. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn she was enjoying the extra attention when he caught her glancing, smirking even, in his direction as they rounded the corner and waited for the elevator to ascend to their level. She radiated pure energy and heat in a way that he either never noticed before or she never had toward him quite this intensely until now.

It was confusing but he would’ve been lying if he ever tried to say that he wanted it to stop.

“Are you going to join me or just stand there like a statue, Mulder?” Scully’s voice pulled him from a trance from within the elevator, the glow of lights above her head illuminating the features of her face as she tilted her chin up just a little and leaned against the back railing.

“Got distracted by the textured, patterned wallpaper,” Mulder shook away the flustered expression and got into the elevator next to her, diverting his attention to the floor as he felt the warmth flooding his face.

“You’ve known me for how long and expect me to buy that load of crap?” Scully elbowed him as she reached for the first-floor button, purposely invading his space much like he usually did as she adjusted her palms back against the railing.

Mulder had the urge to ask why she was being so flirtatious but found the words being swallowed as he turned his head to look at her more clearly, her pupils more visible as she equalized his glance. “Jesus…Why are your pupils dilated, Scully?”

Scully wrinkled her nose at him and did a spin, examining her own eyes in the mirrored wall, the confusion evident as she glanced at him. “I haven’t taken anything and the only thing I’ve consumed is what you brought me last night…none of which would cause Mydriasis.”

“Did you hit your head when you got up this morning?” Mulder was grasping at straws as the ding preceded the opening of the door to the lobby, ushering them toward the significantly brighter entrance. “Sneak a little psychedelic in the middle of the night?”

“I mean, I took a Dramamine before we got on the plane in DC—but that shouldn’t still be in my system enough to do this to my eyes,” Scully wasn’t even wincing as the stark, bitter white light reflected through the scattered bits of stained glass and restored, single-paned windows.

“Do you feel any pain or strange sensations?” Mulder led her toward the Pittman Café, the smell of coffee, pancakes, and maple luring him in like a moth to a flame.

“The only sensation I feel is the distinct urge to tell you to stop with the questions,” Scully’s eyes widened as they stopped at the _please wait to be seated_ sign, her smile fading to a less amused look as she kept her gaze locked on him. “If I felt any pain or discomfort, you’d know it…I might not say anything but you’re smart enough to realize it.”

“That statement is a little loaded,” Mulder couldn’t help himself, even as the approaching hostess smiled in their direction while gathering a couple of menus for them.

“Hi, welcome to the Pittman Café, can I interest you two in a table or booth?” the unsuspecting hostess had that line halfway out of her mouth before she could even realize that Scully was in the middle of a staredown with Mulder.

“Maybe what you really are looking for on this trip is a passive, malleable mind unlike mine to interface with since my ideology seems to be clashing far too much with your own for the umpteenth time,” Scully couldn’t help herself as she broke the tension and forced a smile at the brunette with her perky grin fading. “A booth would be just fine, thanks.”

“Right this way,” she gestured toward the far wall, to a row of booths with dark, overstuffed seating.

Scully didn’t give Mulder time to fully react with any sort of retort as she followed the hostess to a booth and slid into one side. The brutal honesty did exactly what it intended as Mulder’s wheels turned and his feet stayed firmly planted next to the sturdy, upright sign with the calligraphy instructions to wait. He had his reservations on joining her as he caught a rather pointed sideways stare as he approached but his stomach reminded him not to ignore the growing need at his core. He was going to be useless against those snappy comebacks if he didn’t feed the noisy beast that was carefully hidden beneath his ribs and he knew it as he felt the grumble while settling into the other side of the booth. Scully looked up from the menu and raised her brow at him, challenging him to open his mouth.

Mulder thumbed the drink section of the menu, thoroughly unsure if he was equipped just yet to take that bait.

Nearly two hours later

Awkward wouldn’t have accurately described breakfast as the unease hovered in the air like a thick fog as a nearly soundless meal was consumed with barely two words exchanged other than forced pleasantries toward the waitress. Scully had been poking at her egg whites for ten minutes with her fork between sips of tea while she stared at the growing condensation on the side of her water glass. Mulder had witnessed this aspect of Scully’s rigidity before and knew that treading lightly would only go so far, as would remaining in a state of stillness waiting for her to speak first. What he didn’t know is that she was gnawing at the inside of her cheek, quietly daring him to ask about the atypical comment that would never have ushered from her lips prior to today.

“…Go ahead and just ask instead of staring at me,” Scully had fully intended on it being a thought process she only carried out in her mind but the words came pouring out as though she lacked the self-control to hold them in.

“Christ, Scully,” Mulder was looking at her from behind his cup of coffee but he thought he was being subtle enough to get away with it as he choked on a mouthful and cradled the thick, white glass between his fingers in front of his face while he gathered the last of his acuity. “Okay, I’ll bite…what exactly did you mean earlier when you asked me if I was looking for a more passive, malleable mind on this trip?”

Scully’s eyes were like burning fires contained beneath long, fluttered lashes as she pierced a hole through him with an unmatched stare as she placed her tea back on the table. “Of all the times to play dumb, Mulder, this is not one of them. I’d rather her name not occupy my thoughts when it occupies yours quite enough for the both of us.”

“What has gotten into you?” Mulder could’ve fathomed a singular guess as to which individual had Scully flipping the switch on him as he felt his hand grip the table until his knuckles went white. “You can’t be seriously bringing her up right now.”

“What has gotten into _me_? _Really_?” Scully threw her napkin onto the tabletop and caught the attention of one of the waitresses but kept her voice halfway under control as she pushed her plate toward the center. “You have spent more time showing me since _that woman_ came back into your life that I am clearly second fiddle to her. I have done my best to prove to you that I’m here and am not going anywhere, while she’s reeking of that cheap perfume and the unmatched scent of liar you seem impervious to.”

“Where is this coming from?” His jaw went slack and his mouth hung open, the shock visible as he watched, like a deer stuck in the headlights, as Scully started to slide out of the booth. “Wait a second…where are you going?”

Scully flicked cash across the table, easily paying for both of their meals, rising from the booth as Mulder scrambled to make sense of her actions. “I’m getting away from you before I start making a scene in front of people who don’t need to witness me making a fool of myself by airing my dirty laundry in front of them.”

Mulder had an inkling burrowing between jolt and exasperation that had him desiring nothing more than to let her walk away but the collision of truth and mercilessness of her stinging, plain-spoken expression pushed his buttons. He knew there was a chance his articulation would be muddied but from a place he had kept hidden, guarded since that moment that hopes were dashed and destiny was stolen from them like a thief in the night. Part of Mulder’s reservations was not being able to erase the look on her face as he held her while she collapsed, while she struggled to describe her symptoms as the breath was robbed from her—it haunted nightmares and robbed him of sleep. It kept her at arm’s length…as if safety resided there.

It left the door open for a Diana Fowley to seem as though she could slip right in; severe and vile in the face of the already tenuous situation that he had created with his best friend.

“I’m such a fucking asshole,” Mulder tossed a five on the table and inadvertently tipped his cup across the nearly empty plate with a desecrated, anemic looking sausage link on it, before hastily rushing after her. “Are you just going to walk away from me for the second time in the last six months?”

Scully was tapping her toe, impatience steering her as the time bomb within her ticked away, her eyes ripping him apart before she fully squared up to look at him. “I’ll just take the stairs…you can have the elevator.”

“If you’re going to act like a child and stomp off up the stairs then you can have me walking after you until you tell me what in the _holy hell_ has gotten into you,” Mulder was three steps behind as the gaudy, velvety red carpet only muffled the squeak of the steps beneath, every emotion flaring as he caught her by the wrist. “Scully…”

They were halfway between the first and second floor; the swinging door of the hallway just out of view as they stood along the steps, the crumbling façade of their self-isolation apparent as the bubble between them was no wider than a single stair. For the first time, the hush proved to be more like an accelerant on the fire as they drew a line in the sand…inviting the other to move. Mulder’s fingers went weak around her elegant, little wrist while his eyes burned up at her, conveying so much more than his conflicted psychological state. Scully felt wretched and pathetic as she looked down at Mulder, the temperamental affectations blurring her habitual ability to keep her heart hardened from his words, his scent, his touch. Scully wanted to flee as her consciousness flared, as Mulder was knocking down the last of the fortification that had kept her from showing him she felt anything at all.

“It takes me losing my patience for you to take the slightest moment to care,” Scully pulled her wrist free and held onto the railing, the cool of the finished wood restoring a semblance of control as she glanced at the floor. “If I lose myself even more in this…I can’t ever go back. I already have a reputation simply for being at your side and now? I compete just to keep up with you let alone to stay in the loop with you.”

“Why do you refuse to tell me where this is coming from? Why now?” Mulder couldn’t just say it out loud that he missed what he never had, that he wanted more of what he could only imagine in dreams, even as he gazed up at the woman on the brink of slapping him soundly.

“All you had to do was ask,” Scully took three steps further up only to have him match the movement, backing her into the corner that led to the final curve toward the landing at the second floor. “Do you understand how consuming it is to be next to you? To walk into the Fox Mulder sphere every day and find that questioning every belief you’ve ever had has begun to melt and mold into something you can’t control?”

“Stop asking questions with more questions,” Mulder hated being evaded and she was doing it physically and verbally, as they stumbled up two more steps without paying attention to the positioning of their feet. “You were direct when you tried to run.”

“I want to know if you’ve honestly stopped to think about it because I don’t think you have,” Scully felt undeniably trapped as she found the landing with her heel, her backside rubbing against the wall as her fingers moved away from the railing. “I see you, I always have…I compromised my beliefs for the strength of yours, and for what? To have you countlessly aim science back at me as though it’s a hindrance toward a cause, as if I’m less capable of being an asset to you because I’m rooted in something other than what the stars dictate.”

Mulder went mute but continued to gaze at her as though he could discreetly cajole her into divulging a little more but she adopted a voiceless aim, imparting so much more than words could as she refused to blink. She swallowed hard and broke their eye contact with the turn of her head as she brought her shoulders off-center to push the door into the hall, the squeal of an ungreased hinge echoing down the corridor as she felt Mulder’s presence behind her. She didn’t want him to keep following. Scully wanted Mulder to bury himself in thoughts, for once, of what she just enunciated until the sound of her voice was ringing in his ears. She wanted him to experience what she endured on a daily basis that left nights more of a battle where even dreams weren’t exactly a haven.

“Wait,” Mulder called out to her in spite of the presence of other guests in the hallway just feet from the second set of doors in a seemingly endless spiral of stairs.

Scully spun around and nearly interfaced with him, her voice raw and half cracking as she stood her ground in spite of staring up at him. “Why should I?”

“Marital troubles?” The question was innocent enough from an older guest clad in a lengthy robe and comfortable pajamas who had, unknowingly, walked out of their room and directly upon the mess that was this rather intense meeting between two people who were no more than a breath apart. “Sometimes my wife and I need to just take a walk—”

“We’re not married!” Mulder and Scully burst out at the same time before they had to listen to a life lesson from an old guy about how to diffuse their assumed marital bomb.

“My mistake then?” The older gentleman had one of those facial expressions straight out of a horror film right before being stuck with a lengthy knife, absent the gore of it, before retreating into his room to bury the embarrassment.

Scully’s skin was screaming, temperature rising and dropping like the tide as Mulder’s breath and the remnant of aftershave was hovering in the air, intoxicating her. It reminded her of inhaling too much smoke from the first drag of a cigarette, a memory that had escaped her and came flooding back as she pushed through the mist before her palms met the brass handles, pushing them forward. The second set of doors gave way, leading to a nearly identical stairwell with less forgiving lighting that blinked and shuddered with every little step they took, as if climbing toward the unknown. Each fraction of an inch was the shedding away of an aversion to verities.

It was making both of them fervent, unrestrained…drunk without the alcohol.

“All I’ve ever wanted was for you to believe,” Mulder stopped her in her tracks, the tenor of his voice dropping in spite of his volume elevating. “You’ve done almost anything to ignore everything you’ve seen, everything we’ve witnessed, and there are only so many times I can placate myself into thinking it’s because of your beliefs being the opposite of mine.”

Scully’s shoulders went lax, her dilated pupils more pronounced as she stood under the only steady light from three steps above, gooseflesh climbing up her back as she leaned on the rail for strength. “At what cost do you want that from me, Mulder? Do you want to hear that you’re always right or is it more? You want to know how much it frightens me to look into the abyss…and see it looking back at me?”

“What are you really frightened of?” Mulder encroached on Scully’s personal space as if the action had been a record on repeat, encouraging a gasp out of her in the process while trading an upwards intent stare for a downward one. “You’ve opened the opportunity for direct and honest communication from the second you answered the door this morning…don’t back down now.”

“I would have thought it was obvious by now,” Scully couldn’t breathe as she forced herself to back up until there was a comfortable gap between them and the third-floor hallway door was clearly in view up and around the corner. “You’re so bent on leaving me behind. I’m already so enveloped in your cause and if I allow myself to really see exactly as you see, what is to say you’ll keep fighting the fight? I have so much to lose simply by giving up my last defense…when you have one foot out the door.”

“This is about Diana, isn’t it?” Mulder over-enunciated her name as he eclipsed the distance and awakened the chills down the back of her neck as he ignited her with an exhale that had her wavering on her feet.

_Only the truth, shall you speak…_

The words ached in Scully’s heart and she couldn’t stop repeating them in her subconsciousness as the man she had shared so much more than a desk with hovered over her, stealing her air. She wanted to lash out, give Mulder a right hook to rock him off his foundation, but her body heat surged and the sweat formed along her hairline as she sucked another breath past her lips and held it. He had more power over her than she ever wanted to admit and the expression resting on his face was contorting to that of a man that was starting to understand just how much control he had. It was something new to scare her.

“I don’t want to do this with you,” Scully’s voice trembled as though a blast of tears might fall, but her eyes stayed dry as she found herself holding onto the front of his shirt. “She’s part of it, but she’s not the part that holds the most gravity on every decision that I’ve ever made—and the ones I’ve yet to make. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

Mulder stopped to peer at her unusually cold fingers braced along his abs, marveling at the burning they managed to inspire in spite of their temperature. “I can’t read your mind and I’ve never pretended that I could. You’ve never given me an opportunity to understand anything that bothered you beyond the surface and yet, I’m still here…following you up these stairs. That means something, doesn’t it?”

“It means that we’ve already been in this exact place before,” Scully backed away, retreating up the remaining steps, her hand on the brass as she looked at him scrambling to go after her. “The setting changes but the results don’t and this is where we are…circling the drain but never meeting an end or interfacing.”

“You’re not leaving it like that,” Mulder was incensed as he flung the door open to follow her, his volume carrying to the point that he was certain that everyone on the third floor was hearing him but he didn’t care. “As much as I’m enjoying the workout, Scully, I need you to look me in the eye and tell me that you want me to walk away, if that’s what I’m hearing from that last remark…”

Scully hovered at the door toward the fourth floor, her hands shaking as she turned her head toward him as he neared her side, the distance no further than seven or eight feet as she searched his face, her voice soft. “I want you to do something, whether it be everything…or nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by
> 
> India Arie  
Atticus
> 
> I really hope I haven't led us down a dark path that I cannot possibly hope to return from -- Monika, don't kill me.
> 
> Cate, as always, you kept me from literally losing my mind. Please, never change.


	3. Snowy Night in Northern Nevada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully’s honesty comes into focus and a moment becomes more than hazy...Leading to so much more than the Truth.
> 
> “What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.” – Virginia Woolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amobarbital is a sedative-hypnotic that has been used to create suggestibility for the discernment of information and the unveiling of truth (that has been concealed). 
> 
> All places mentioned are real...and yes, the Mizpah is freaky AS HELL. Go there. It looks considerably different than described (I used the 90s model, it was remodeled in 2012).
> 
> Disclaimer: Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, and Assistant Director Skinner belong respectively to Chris Carter, FOX Productions, and TenThirteen Productions. All other characters are original and any likeness or named similarities to any real-life persons are purely coincidental (unless, well, you’ve been told, then you should’ve expected such things and shouldn’t get upset over anything that happens to them, respectively)

_Make visible what,_

_Without you,_

_Might perhaps_

_Never have been seen._

-Robert Bresson

_“I want you to do something, whether it be everything…or nothing at all.”_

It struck Mulder, between the eyes and to his chest, that the statement from Scully’s lips, in all of its gentle agony, was so much more than a confession as he hesitated for a moment too long. The whoosh and thud of the door closing in front of him as a flash of metallic mirroring nearly blinded him. She had taken the dithering as him choosing the latter, leaving him to contend with the trek ahead of him, to make the climb to her. She wanted to turn the corner and do it all over, if he was looking in the rearview with as much longing as she was. Mulder choked on spit as he swung the door open, the hinges wailing with every little movement, and skipped three steps to hasten the ascent. The sound was akin to an uncoordinated donkey attempting the same action as he nearly biffed it rounding the corner but finding her inconveniently rapt three more steps above him made it worth it.

Until he saw the tears silently searing her pearl and rose cheeks to rip out his heart and toss it back down the burgundy clad steps.

“You should really allow a guy to absorb comments like that for more than a half a second before you leave him to bumble around like he has two left feet,” Mulder wore every insecurity like a badge as he bit down on his bottom lip while rising taking another foray into her minimal breadth, his hands finding the railing on either side of her waist.

_God, you smell so good._ It was a shared thought as tension climbed and eyes locked, hunger rising from toes to the tops of their heads.

Scully’s nerves were on fire, her usual instinct to evade all but gone as she stared up at him while her fingers bumped against his, swallowing her butterflies in the form of a healthy, low murmur as she struggled not to stutter. “I gave you plenty of time to think…”

“Not nearly enough,” Mulder hadn’t imagined a second chance at a missed opportunity being in the stairwell of a hotel that held the secrets of nearly a hundred years’ worth of scandalous affairs but, here he was, thumbs edging closer to her hips.

“You’re going to drag this out, milk it for all its worth, and wait until there’s nothing more than a pile of me on the floor wondering what the hell happened, aren’t you?” Scully felt her knees twitch and the impulse building as she squeezed the lacquer until the tingling traveled up her wrists to her elbows, the craving building.

“You’ve made me chase you up three and a half flights of stairs, Scully,” Mulder’s voice found a deeper tone as he used the tip of his nose to tilt her head back until there was nothing more than an inch or two separating them. “Just try saying that you don’t deserve it.”

“I didn’t make you,” Scully was damn near out of her mind as her eyelashes fanned forward, her jawline chasing his as she let the back of her head touch the textured wallpaper. “I know…but it doesn’t mean that you have to…”

Mulder toed the line, teasing her bottom lip with the curve of his own until he felt her lips part, urging him on in a silent motion as she kept only a sliver of her vision fixed on him. It was more than a promise reclaimed and it was beyond that instant they had been cheated out of in the hallway outside of his apartment, when time seemed to slow until it was painful to suck in a puff of air. They were so much more than that now as the bloom opened to the midnight air, the pheromones finally meeting like thunder against the lines of wallpaper. Scully gasped at the feel of Mulder’s palms along her wrists, his agile movements guiding her grip away from the railing toward the small of her own back while the air between them went hazy as heat collided. This was what it was like to stand on the edge of freefalling and they were pushing each other closer to the point of no return as Mulder’s hands released hers, exploring the expanse of her back.

“No more hiding,” Mulder dragged his lip across the curve of her jaw until he found the space below her ear and earned a low, stuttered hum against his cheek from her closed lips. “No more pretending…”

Scully would’ve been livid over being teased by anyone else, but Mulder, as she bit down her bottom lip, the echo of her own groan ringing in her ears as she did her best to smother it. “Please…”

Mulder created a modest bubble between them, eyes seeking out an approval that he didn’t realize he already had as Scully’s hands sought out the warmth of his midsection, tugging him back to her. Mulder regarded her features as he tilted her chin a little higher with his index, captivated by the budding expression on her face as her lips began to tremble, his name soundlessly refraining from her lungs. Scully was incredible, in the simplest of terms, and Mulder realized that he was tormenting himself nearly as much as he was her while wanting nothing more than to show her exactly what she had been asking for. It was needless torment as he caught sight of a flash of the tip of her tongue as it wet the curve of her bottom lip while unknowingly mimicking the movement of her index across his chest. The yearning manifesting with a very real collision as mouths finally met, lips parted and beckoned one another in. Eyes closed, heads gently tilted and bodies held on tight as heartbeats found a rhythm with every passing breath.

It would’ve been an incredibly freeing experience if it weren’t for the sound of the stairs squeaking under both of their feet as Mulder nearly lifted Scully off of the floor and rattled the railing against her backside.

“Shit,” Scully’s lips popped free as their clumsiness had them making more noise than either intended, her eyes still heavily dilated to the point the steel color of her iris was barely visible.

Mulder inhaled a deep breath and nibbled on her bottom lip, coaxing a soft, yet clear enough, moan as she gripped his shoulders from her less-than-opportune position. “Anyone ever tell you that you have to be a little quieter or the party is over?”

“Mulder,” Scully was nervously laughing as Mulder’s hand found her ass and squeezed enough that her tiptoes were the only part of her feet still touching the steps. “That’s an awfully easy question for you to be asking…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mulder had a grin perched on his lips, his more mischievous side pushing to the surface as he ran his fingers through her hair and planted soft, evenly spaced kisses from the top of her forehead down until he found her mouth again.

It was a lot more than making up for lost time or reclaiming something they thought they’d never have a chance at again even in the most awkward of places, as pent up agony met fervor in a wave of electricity. It was overdue and the escalation of suspense would’ve been too much for the ordinary. Scully felt the hem of her shirt riding a little higher against her ribcage; the cold air nipping at her skin while Mulder’s mouth kept her from fully regaining her balance. It would’ve been a blatant lie to say it wasn’t exhilarating to be in the grips of a rather handsy makeout session in a stairwell, but the hedonistic, breathy gasps that seemed to gain harmony with every passing expiration were making the chances of being caught exceptionally higher. It was axiomatic, however, that neither of them seemed to care about that as Mulder angled his head a little lower, tilting perfectly against Scully’s curves, drinking her in as her hands slid around him, gripping his shoulders.

“Oh, damn, I must’ve missed the sock on the door handle,” A laugh laced voice had both of them reeling in the direction of their twenty-something uninvited guest with a suitcase in hand. “This is what happens when the elevator is full and you have to drag your crap to the fourth floor.”

Scully knew her lips were swollen and her hair was a mess as Mulder’s fingers became half tangled at the back of her head, their teenage-esque escapade on display as she adjusted her shirt. “No, that’s our bad.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a haunted hotel,” The smirk plastered on the intruding guest’s lips had Scully diverting her stare toward the floor, his chuckle in full swing as he took a deeper opportunity to continue berating them a bit. “…Maybe the heavy breathing is just from the grab-ass going on in the stairwell?”

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough fun to last you for your entire stay,” Mulder stood straight and pressed his lips together, casually stepping between the stranger and Scully almost protectively. “Don’t you think?”

Their fair-haired pest got to the top of the landing, his laughter still carrying as he shot a goofy, almost cheesy grin back at them. “Maybe you two ought to take it to a room instead of subject unsuspecting onlookers to the middle-aged, vertical dry hump in a stairwell? I’ve heard of you only live once, but, don’t force us to watch.”

“Did he just call us middle-aged?” Scully waited until the fourth-floor swinging door squealed shut to crack a joke, running a hand through her hair until she had had partially tamed the mess going on at the back of her head.

“Kids these days just don’t know the difference between old and fine wine,” Mulder had a deadpan expression as he wrinkled his nose up toward the top of the landing, slowly tilting his head in Scully’s direction to admire the disheveled sight that her clothes and lips had become before cracking a smile. “You want to get out of here?”

“Mmhmmm…yours or mine?” Scully nodded and slipped her fingers along the palm of his hand, biting down on the edge of her lip as they staggered up the stairs.

“Yours is nicer,” Mulder didn’t want to tell Scully that it was the equivalent to taking her to a swanky room simply by making the moves on her in the room she had slept in over his own by the décor alone.

“Ow, my head fucking hurts,” Scully rubbed the back of her head as they came to the top of the steps and entered the hallway, the cool air dotting along the back of her neck as she raised her fingers through her hair, along her scalp. “I think I might’ve tapped the back of my head against the wall or something.”

Mulder casually wrapped his arm around her and covered her fingers along the curve of her neck and head, massaging until she leaned against him comfortably. “Well, we’ll get you an aspirin and maybe some tea?”

“I’d like that,” Scully was starting to feel a deep pinching behind both of her eyes as the dizziness started to jolt through her, the final set of stairs fluctuating in and out as though she were staring through a lens being zoomed in and out.

“You okay?” Mulder couldn’t help but notice her hesitating on the first step as he held onto her by the wrists, looking into both of her eyes as the dilation pulsated twice. “Are you sure you didn’t take anything last night? I’ve never seen your eyes do that, Scully.”

Scully’s confusion was ample as she pulled her left hand free and gripped the railing, tugging herself up a couple of steps while dully shaking her head. “I’m not sure—I’m dizzy and it hurts behind my eye sockets. I don’t remember taking anything.”

“Everything at breakfast was okay other than the bad conversation?” Mulder tried to make light of the situation as he lifted her right arm around his shoulder, guiding her off of her feet as the worry came tumbling back to the front of his mind. “I’m going to make you some tea and see if sitting down helps.”

It wasn’t unlike being out at sea but the sensations were heavily concentrated to the waist up as Scully’s nausea started causing the feeling of spinning from her belly button on up. She blinked as Mulder carried her up the singular flight of stairs, a halo of light streaming in from small windows at the ceiling near the top of the fifth floor. They were brighter than usual and made it harder to keep from vomiting the contents of her stomach as Mulder reached the top of the stairs, turning toward their hallway. Scully let out a low, uncomfortable groan and buried her face against his chest, coiling her fingers around the fabric of his shirt while a secondary wave of chills, heat, and vertigo level whirling came over her.

“Where’s your key?” Mulder was careful with her as he pressed his lips to the top of her forehead, the drop of her temperature more than evident as he kept them there, passing some of his heat to her.

Scully groped at her hip, toward her pocket, but kept perpetually missing the spot. “It’s in there…what the fuck is wrong with me?”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Mulder could see the top of it popping free as he gave her the gentlest of lifts to pull the key free and unlock the door, exercising his skill of holding onto her without jostling her too much, or worse, dropping her. “Look at that…we’re in.”

“This is real attractive, isn’t it?” Scully was muttering as Mulder carried her to the freshly made bed, guiding her to a partially seated position while the color all but drained from her face. “Why can’t we just go back to the stairwell?”

Mulder chuckled, chalking it up to food poisoning that had taken its sweet time to arrive as he gathered a cup and a tea bag from the hotel set that they had left her, pouring fresh water from the pot onto the bag. “Leaving out the sugar this time…might make your stomach go crazy if there’s too much sweet introduced.”

Scully looked up at him with those angelic eyes that drove him insane, the dilation nearly gone as she held the cup between her fingers, sweating buckets as she inhaled a sharp puff of air and blew on the hot liquid in front of her. “Why are you staying to take care of me? You could cut and run—I wouldn’t judge you for a second.”

“I am going to give you aspirin, make sure you drink that tea, and lay on that spot next to you until you stop looking like the Zombie version of my Scully,” Mulder was digging through the toiletries, rattling around everything in search of a bottle or satchel of pills, his little smile all for her as he watched her take the first sip.

“Ugh, plain tea is unpleasant,” Scully complained after swallowing the first sip, cringing over the bitter aftertaste.

“Do I hear complaining?” Mulder raised an eyebrow as he went into the bathroom, rifling through the toiletries in there for the med stash, marveling at the sheer number of goodies they had stocked this room with. “Why is your room so much fancier than mine!?”

He truly was mystified, and distracted, by the differences in their rooms but it was mainly for her benefit as he found the sampler kit of medical supplies, complete with aspirin. He held the packet in his hand just as the sound of hot tea splashing against the floor followed by the thud and breaking of glass stopped his heart. The air went out of his lungs as he spun around, dropping the cute, decorative container of items with the Mizpah’s label on it as he ran across the tile. He had hoped she simply had fallen asleep and let go but every wish became dashed as he found her staring at the ceiling, struggling to breathe but she wasn’t choking. Something had gone terribly wrong. It had him halfway to tears before he could even get to the bed, the panic set in as he could see the dilation had come back with a vengeance. Her staggered, threaded breaths had him flashing back in vivid splashes of Technicolor to that night in the hallway and the bile rose in his belly.

“Mulder…help…can’t…breathe…” Scully wheezed as her mouth barely fell open with only a remnant of tea touching the edge of her lips, her fingers desperately squeezing his wrist, imploring him.

“Come on Scully, don’t do this to me again,” Mulder was dialing on the phone next to the bed, his eyes filling with tears as he watched her fingers continue to white knuckle his wrist. “Medical emergency in 504…difficulty breathing, I don’t know what happened but we need assistance immediately, stop asking questions and just send help!”

“Calm,” Scully had the smallest, unnecessary smile perched on her lips as she turned a bright shade of red, her eyes searching his face as her nostrils flared. “Down...”

“I’ll be calm when we get you to a hospital,” Mulder shook his head and swallowed a flood of tears as he watched his best friend fight an unknown, invisible assailant. “Please, just be okay…”

Mulder held the receiver against his cheek, the sounds of sirens in the distance already approaching from an unknown locale. All he could think about was her safety and the last time he had held her hand like this. History wasn’t going to repeat itself. Not this time.

5 Days Later

Nugget Casino Resort

Sparks, NV

“I haven’t checked with Mulder about the flight time but everything is fine…I’m walking, I’m coherent, and everything tastes like charcoal,” Scully had the cell phone up to her ear while staring out the window from nineteen floors up, the Sparks-Reno area covered in a blanket of snow, little flakes still falling. “Unless they ground flights again…Yes, it’s still snowing and it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop for a bit…I’ll keep you informed…Thank you, again…see you once we get through this weather, Sir…Uh huh…bye.”

Scully set her cell phone on the vanity and pushed the curtain against the air unit, rubbing her arms as she stood between the sofa and the wall. It was getting late as she kept her eyes just off from center while the sun made the final descent, disappearing behind the mountains, to the west, as the sunset lit the mainly cloudy skies in shades of blue, red, and hazy purple. Her mind was still buzzing; full contemplation of the trespass that had been made on her body to the point that she spent forty-eight hours recovering in a hospital bed, with Mulder passed out in a chair. Scully held a breath of air in her lungs and lingered on the thought of Mulder’s mouth against her own; the only solace of the hell that had gone on five days prior. She wanted more but found herself resisting with the thought, worrying that she had ruined things again. She couldn’t shake the inkling in spite of his hand gripping hers while she slept away the remnant of vertigo while the smell of her hospital room only enhanced the odium brewing in her belly.

Three, soft knocks at the door brought her out of the realm of self-pity and back to reality, where the carpet at least felt warm against her the bottoms of her feet. Scully crossed the room and opened the door to find Mulder standing with his arms full of to-go bags and a couple of bottles of soda. Scully couldn’t help but smile at his enhanced paranoia about sealed drinking containers, as this was now the third day in a row of bottled drinks only that he would partake in. She kind of loved the gesture in spite of the silliness it represented.

“I found Chinese food and snagged a couple of cream sodas,” Mulder moved past her and started setting up everything on the table while she closed the door quietly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “How’s the weather report?”

“We didn’t really think about the consequences of snow in Northern Nevada in January and how that might affect flights out of airports,” Scully followed him toward the little coffee table in front of the sofa, the rosiness in her cheeks soft but evident as she slid her hands into her pockets. “Skinner called.”

“Babysitting us from DC? He shouldn’t have,” Mulder pulled each container from the paper sacks, glancing up at her from the couch as she stayed standing. “You okay?”

“He wasn’t calling just to check on us. The analysis labs got preliminary reports back on everything sent from the Mizpah…thanks to us, a kitchen staff member has been arrested, booked, and charged with six months of tampering with consumables and dosing of an unknown number of their guests,” Scully pressed her lips together and aimed her glance at the floor while she gathered the strength. “The drug of choice was a powdered form of Amobarbital that had been placed into the tea bags creating a rudimentary elixir or potion. Since you stuck to the coffee, you were unaffected…I wouldn’t have been in nearly as bad of shape if I hadn’t attempted a third cup in under twenty-four hours.”

“Scully…” Mulder stood, his own guilt rising to the surface as he steered his legs around the table, less than certain if touching her was a good idea. “If I hadn’t insisted on that cup of tea when I carried you upstairs—“

“We might never have figured out that Hamilton Davis had been drugging unsuspecting guests for months,” Scully cut him off and pushed her index to his lips, stopping him from continuing the self-blame of her plight. “There was almost no way to prevent what happened to me. It simply caused me to have a spike in my bloodstream and you couldn’t have predicted that. The thing to think about is that a sick man was drugging guests, slipping into their rooms at night, and compelling them to say or do whatever...”

“Has anyone from before you come forward with complaints?” Mulder held his breath as he watched her fidget uncomfortably; the idea already had her sick to her stomach.

“Yes,” Scully nodded, seeking out strength from his proximity as she felt the radiant warmth waft against her arms. “Skinner mentioned at least seven other people mentioned hearing Hamilton talking while they slept—he had broken into their rooms shortly after room service had been delivered. It was different comments for each one, though.”

“Did you?” Mulder was reticent to ask, knowing what revisiting a hotel room invasion could do to her psyche.

“Yeah…” Scully was buried in thought, her head nodding almost mechanically.

“He really went for the home run on compliance, reduction of resistance to self-control and suggestibility,” Mulder slow-blinked, gestured for her to sit down at the couch with him, the cushions showing their age in the gaudily decorated space of the massive, twice the size, room they’d ever stayed in before.

Scully’s stomach dropped at the realization that he hadn’t connected the dots that had already begun to cheapen every second of their fight, confessional, and subsequent intimate moment in the stairwell. “Mulder, about that…”

“You’re not about to ask me if I’m having reservations about the motivations or inclinations from you in regards to how everything happened that day, are you?” Mulder popped the lid off of the container of sweet and sour sauce, meeting her gaze as his heart thudded into his throat. “Because, I wasn’t about to put that heartbeat of a second thought into the universe…were you?”

“I kept thinking that they were words that I had been holding back for so long and everything felt right for the first time—now?” Scully leaned against the cushions and felt the soft, purple velvet against her palms as she couldn’t help but notice the pillow beside her arm, reminding her of where Mulder had been sleeping since she got out of the hospital. “I wonder how easy it would be to blame it on a literal cup of suggestibility and the impulse of telling nothing but the truth. I can still taste the foreign element on my tongue, hear that voice hovering, and then I see the invisible bubble drifting back between us as though it had been a dream.”

“Scully, it isn’t that,” Mulder reached across to cover the top of her hand, gently squeezing until he could feel her posture soften. “I took you to Tonopah, I dragged you into the mines, I encouraged you to drink the tea not once but twice…I held you while your blood pressure skyrocketed and crashed as you struggled to breathe. I don’t think you know just how guilty I feel over that.”

For the first time since her eyes opened in her hospital bed at Saint Mary’s Regional Medical Center, Scully felt the strength of the culpability that he had taken assumption of, a sentiment that had her equally exasperated with and adoring of him. The bitterness, more palpable than the charcoal, ached through her as she leaned against his shoulder, sighing into the air. The truth had unraveled her well-constructed exterior protection and left her unguarded for the second time in six months. Scully wanted it to be an ally but all she felt was frailty illuminating from her chest. Communication had weakened and it burned in Scully’s veins to realize it took a powerful drug to push her into the openness that Mulder deserved.

“I’m so sorry,” Scully was fixated on Mulder’s hand across her own, on the way her fingers were barely visible in the comfort of his touch, enveloped in even a little bit of him. “I really did want to just go back to that stairwell…and pretend like nothing else existed even if it meant going home to return to the way it has always been.”

Mulder’s languid movements mimicked water as he tilted her chin toward his gravitation, pulling her into his sphere simply by being, his eyes locked on hers, voice dropping down an octave. “What did I say about pretending?”

“No more pretending,” Scully repeated his prior request like it had become a verse of a prayer, hanging on each syllable until the air between them collided and the match was struck.

Mulder nodded into her orbit, humming the confirmation while pushing her lips apart to accommodate his own, tasting the remnant of the heavy-handed minty toothpaste from erasing the leftover charcoal flavor. There was something different in the spark as Scully’s free hand explored the curves of his back, roaming up until she pulled down on his shoulder, gripping him as though she were falling. Nothing had faded, nor had it diminished, as the gasoline poured across embers, igniting the fire as eyes closed and energy soared. Mulder kept his index along her chin, caressing her jaw as he listened to the hum of an involuntary moan reverberate against his lips and his fingers through her cheek.

The drug hadn’t done anything but dull the sensation—inevitability resided in a kiss.

“The Chinese food is getting cold,” Scully’s voice was shaking as she looked up at him, her leg cozily angled between his as a near-horizontal position had been casually attained and the scent of Mulder’s aftershave surrounded her, from the pillow and from his skin.

Mulder caught a glimpse of the coffee table with scattered containers of unopened food, the steaming sweet and sour practically begging to be dipped into as he smirked down at her, narrowing the diminishing distance as he snaked an arm underneath of her back. “Cold Chinese food is a delicacy meant to be enjoyed in the dark with a really bad, B grade horror movie on the television…didn’t you know that?”

“That kind of sounds like you’re blowing smoke up my ass,” Scully let out a laugh as Mulder dotted his teeth along her neck and gave her backside a modest tug until she was carefully underneath of him, fitting nicely against his thighs. “What do they say about warm cream soda?”

“Oh, warm cream soda…don’t even get me started on that,” Mulder winked and traced a line from her nose to the top button of her linen shirt, popping the first two free with his thumb as a gasp escaped her lips, flipping his tone to give her so much more than power. “We don’t have to do this here, in a really cheap hotel in Reno. You know that, right?”

Scully came up to meet him, leaning against an elbow as she invited his mouth back to hers, giving him one of the shortest, yet powerful hint to what lingered beyond as she assisted in undoing the next two with her eyes burning through to his, separated by a breath. “No more hiding…no more pretending…”

The locality no longer mattered and the expiring warmth diffusing from the food just feet away barely registered to either of their thoughts as the whirring of snow falling against the nineteenth story window. Truth had been an escape artist until now, as Scully’s thigh climbed higher, pulling Mulder to the edge of inevitability, where so much more than passion resided. It took every ounce of energy not to indulge in a hasty, albeit heavily craved and deserved, series of undulations that only the walls would be able to secretly confess if they could. There was something more poetic and rhythmic in their intimacy, as Mulder’s fingers dotted along her rib region, exposing skin to the air, while hers found flesh at the curve of his spine, gripping muscles toward his deltoids.

“Bed?” Mulder reluctantly created space between them and inhaled a deep breath while he delicately teetered on the edge of the couch, a handful of her shirt between his fingers as he glanced down at the woman who had been relieving him of his belt. “Been thinking about that for a while?”

“The answer of exactly how long I’ve been imagining just how it would feel to be underneath of you…” Scully tossed the belt on the floor and gave his shirt a soft yank over his head, discarding it with the belt as she gazed up at him. “Would be enough to make you wonder how long ago you could’ve gotten me in this position.”

“Well, fuck me…I mean…Jesus,” Mulder could’ve been knocked clean off the couch with a singular flick of a feather as Scully raised up on her palm and nibbled along his jaw while her fingers nimbly popped the button of his slacks open. “I’m still…processing…ah…hell…Scully…”

“Mulder…I need you,” Scully moaned the revelation into his ear and gazed up at him, leaving nothing to chance as she drew a circle with her index along his abdominals. “All of you…”

They had been holding back for so long; as partners, as friends, and left any chance of more to go stagnant until lightning struck. Timing hadn’t been a kind mistress to Mulder or Scully but, on a plum-colored, velvet couch in a hotel room they never intended to have, a lightbulb flicked on a burst. Mulder guided Scully onto his lap, his hands memorizing her curves as he admired her for a long moment while her chest heaved just inches from his face. Scully had always been stunning, but as she allowed each layer to be shed, to be exposed to the cool air so close to a window with the curtains still open, frigid air radiating from outside, the rose bloomed. They took their time in undressing one another but managed to create the aftermath of a tornado with their garments as they threw everything in any direction, hoping not to knock anything over onto the floor. As only a single item of clothing remained, Mulder was beside himself with adoration. He was also beside himself realizing that she was giving herself to him and all she wanted in return was the same. All of him.

His heart.

His love.

To wake up beside him in a tangle of sheets.

“Scully?” He posed it like a question as he watched her bite down on her lip, her hands along the back of the couch as she glanced at the mess of clothes around them, her cheeks flushed with heat.

“Yes?” Scully still wore a bra but never felt more naked as she felt the air grazing the delicate folds of her sex, giving her a less than gentle reminder of just how wet she had become.

“I need you more than I’d ever realized I could need anyone,” Mulder had never been more painfully aware of the throbbing that his own arousal was causing as he felt his heat clash with hers as she tilted her hips toward him, unhooking the final clasp. “Ah, God.”

Scully let the velvet and lace drop to the carpet and the pendulum swung as her hips elevated to meet him and hover just enough to know there were no reservations left. Mulder felt her entire body shudder as he buried himself in her, the moans muted against his shoulder as he held her and felt the affirmation from her lips. It was a start, in the most rapt of ways as every bit of a rise and fall became smooth, to the beat of a drum that no one else could hear. Scully gripped the wood trim of the sofa and felt the first apex nearing as every nerve screamed, pulsated, and tightened around Mulder’s cock. Mulder fluttered his eyes shut and felt a wave of electricity jolting him as he attempted to slow Scully’s movements with a squeeze of his palms against her backside, to keep himself from diving right off the edge but he was met with a loud cry into the air.

It was his undoing.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen that fast…” Mulder was breathless she crumbled against him, every inch of him still throbbing in spite of himself. “Not with you.”

Scully wiped the sweat from her forehead, her eyes on his as the last of her unbridled orgasm running her ragged from the inside out. “I think you underestimate both of us…we have all of the time in the world for shaking cobwebs free.”

Mulder nodded, groping for the blanket to wrap her in, grazing his fingers across her bare skin, emblazoning a trail of gooseflesh in the process. “Maybe I should teach you that lost art of cold Chinese food and bad horror films now?”

Scully had a smile plastered to her face as she slid to one side, sharing just enough of the blanket to give him a shred of his modesty back, the chills coming over both of them as she planted a soft, yet lingering kiss against his collarbone. “I’d like that.”

The unlikeliest of moments between two partners, who shared a bond that no one could fully shake, had finally been brought to fruition—all while the snow fell on a night in Northern Nevada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes by:  
Virginia Woolf  
Robert Bresson
> 
> To Monika,  
I cannot even tell you how much this one meant to write. The most elaborate of lies, girl…but I hope this was worth the trouble. Longer than I'd expected, by far, but it was so much fun to write.
> 
> Cate, thank you for not letting me freak the hell out over this—and reading over literally everything to make sure it didn’t sound like manure.

**Author's Note:**

> Quotes in chapter one by:  
Buddha  
Wiz Khalifa
> 
> Monika, I tried to do your prompt justice and I hope that the liberties that I did take were within your limits/expectations. Writing for you made me nervous because you're my XF BFF and I adore you. You'll see how I pulled off the most elaborate lie of the century.
> 
> Cate, I would've lost my ever-loving mind without you. Thank you so much for all of the read-throughs and constant "does this part sound like crap or am I losing it?" reassurances. I needed it.
> 
> Nicole...LMFAO dude...girl. I'm dead.


End file.
